Water's Soul
by fine-feathered
Summary: Humanity has been wiped out by the Angels and now monsters roam the Earth. Angels reach out to the monsters saying they have no soul but are capable of giving them one. Sam&Dean are two waterspirits who are curious about souls and pray to Castiel.


**Summary: **Humanity has long since been wiped out in the Apocalypse. For the part they played in this destruction Angels have been stripped of their most powerful abilities and have been cast down to Earth. With the absence of humanity, the monsters and creatures that were once hunted have come out of the darkness and are becoming more and more human everyday. But the Angels have convinced the monsters that they have no soul and that they alone are capable of bestowing a soul to them, which would give them human emotion.

Dean and Sam Winchester are two waterspirits, the last of their kind. They wonder about the true intentions of the Angels, but despite this Sam wants to risk praying for a soul. To protect him, Dean prays for a soul thus calling down the Angel Castiel; an efficient and ruthless being. Dean must find out the truth behind the Angel's schemes whilst battling his own nightmares and protecting his brother. The only problem is, he finds himself falling in love with the very thing he fears.

**Pairing:** Destiel (eventual)  
><strong>Rating: <strong>PG (this part)  
><strong>Word count: <strong>3,446 (part1)

..0

For a long time now Dean wondered why he didn't have a soul.

What did it even feel like to have a soul?

Sam didn't have a soul either, so he couldn't ask him.

Sometimes when he sat on the shoreline, gentle waves lapping at his feet, he tilted his face towards the sun and let the bright heat seep through his skin.

He imagined that this was what it felt like to have a soul.

A burning light deep inside that bade away the bite of frost even on a winter's morning.  
>It would be alive, like a small azure flame it would sometimes struggle to keep alight but at other times it would jump and spike, filling every cavity in his body with its splendor. It would fill him with a passion and purpose he couldn't even imagine.<p>

But then a cloud would pass overhead, and the sun would be eclipsed, throwing dark shadows onto his bronzed skin. That brilliant moment of fantasy would pass and he would slip back into the water again.

..0

Castiel strode through the corridors, tails of his trench coat snapping around his legs as he walked up to an imposing wooden door, replete with modern chrome handles. Pushing them open Castiel stepped into an airy office, a mix of reflective surfaces and warm woods making up the furniture. But he's seen it all before.

"Castiel" uttered the man standing at the windows, stark white wings twitching as he rolled his shoulders. "Did you deal with the Hydra?"

Castiel stepped up to the mahogany desk, fingers tracing over a smooth grain. "Yes, her soul was received."

Finally, the angel turned from the view of the crumbling city, eyes alight with joy. "Good work Castiel, your services are appreciated."

Inclining his head politely Castiel placed two fingertips to his forehead, a symbol of respect, "thank you Michael."

With the formality done, Castiel left the office, the silver eyes of his general hawk like as Castiel departed.

White corridors and blank doors flit past Castiel as he made his way to receive Revelation from his superior.

The doors Castiel faced this time aren't quite as tall and not nearly as impressive. The room that is revealed is not nearly as large as Michael's nor as airy. But where Michael's office held the warmth of natural woods and sweeping views of the abandoned city, this office was clinical and sterile like a morgue. It was gloomy with only the harsh light of a neon tube that flickered overhead.

Glancing up from his paperwork Zachariah smiled, reminding Castiel of a rodent aggressively baring its teeth at a competitor.

"Castiel, here for more orders? What a busy bee you are. You're making the rest of us look bad."

Castiel stayed motionless, not a muscle twitching in his oily black wings.

Rolling his eyes Zachariah's smile dropped from his face like the feces from a bloated bull. "Lighten up will ya?" Zachariah said as he pushed a manila folder towards Castiel.

Looking down at it, Castiel's stoic face finally expressed an emotion; surprise.

Interlacing his fingers beneath his chin Zachariah narrowed his watery blue eyes.

"Now I don't know why Michael thinks you're up for this particular assignment, and frankly I think he's overestimating you Castiel."

Smoothing his face Castiel stared down at Zachariah, unfazed by the familiar words.

"Buuuut, it's not up to me. Boss' orders 'n' all. Just don't screw up, this could be the deal of the decade."

Castiel reached out to take the folder, but was stopped when Zachariah slammed his hand down on the folder with a sharp smack.

"This could change everything, the consequences will be dire if you fail."

Slipping the folder out from Zachariah's hands, Castiel tucked the folder under his arm, obsidian wings bristling with irritation. "I won't fail."

Waving a hand noncommittally, Zachariah swiveled his chair to the left of the paper-laden desk, attention returning to the mountains of paperwork. "Good, get out then."

Castiel had the self-restraint of a gagged and bound nun when he didn't slam Zachariah's door on the way out.

Instead Castiel found himself trekking the corridors of the skyscraper until he was ascending the grey marble stairs that took him up to the roof. Stretching out his wings Castiel sighed in pleasure. The howling winds tugged at his clothes and tousled his soft hair; cool eddies brushing through his plumage of feathers.

Taking the folder out from beneath his arm Castiel looked at the red cursive writing that had surprised him before.

_Fossegrim. _

They had thought they had all been wiped out 8 years ago; nothing had been seen or heard of that particular breed since.

Flicking open the folder, Castiel kept a firm grip on the papers lest the wind snatch it away.

The material within was minimal however.

The first item was a photo of an aerial view of the location the creature lived in. A deep calm river snaked its way through Sioux Falls, where an old scrap yard and aging house sat on the banks of the river.

Castiel noted the coordinates scrawled on the back and tucked it into the back of the folder.

Also included was a report on Fossegrim in general; their attributes, powers and weaknesses.

_A type of 'friendly' male water spirit that assumes two forms. The first and preferred form of the Fossegrim is similar to a merman, where the torso is that of a human and from the waist down is that of a fishtail. The scales of a Fossegrim are highly prized for their indestructible qualities. _

_The second form is the one they take when out of water, which is completely humanoid. A Fossegrim is capable of living in either freshwater or on land for extended periods of time._

_The abilities of Fossegrim vary, it is noted that some can scry water for divination, bewitch others with music, change the weather and heal wounds. All can breathe water or air, have denser muscle structures allowing greater strength, heightened senses, little need for nourishment, and have perfect night vision for seeing in deep water._

_The only recorded method to kill a Fossegrim is through fire or a red hot blade._

The last document was a transcript of the Prayer that was received earlier that day.

_So my dumbass brother has been harping on about praying to you assholes for a while now, despite what our dad taught us. _  
><em>I have to take this bullet for my little brother, so come and get me you pricks.<em>

_- Dean Winchester_

Castiel's brows quirked, mouth thinning with disapproval. This wasn't the usual desperation filled plea for a soul, but a full frontal dare.

It was certainly going to be a challenge, because he wasn't assigned a simple 'Ascension', rather he had two targets to convince and collect.

Huffing out a breath Castiel stepped up to the edge of the roof, eyes closing in bliss as the sharp knives of the wind teased against his skin. Spreading out his arms, Castiel let the folder drop from his fingers, the papers and photos whipped away in the wind, like snowflakes in a flurry.

It may indeed be a challenge, but that was the only thing that got the dead heart in his chest beating. There was a genuine but rare smile on the Angel's lips at the idea.

Tipping forward the Angel tumbled down off the roof, windows and crumbling buildings shooting past. Snapping open his black wings Castiel began his journey.

..0

Stepping out from the lake, Dean shuddered as the wind chilled the beads of water sliding down his skin.

Snatching up the towel from the rocks on the bank Dean wrapped it around his waist as he padded his way along the well-worn path. As he climbed the slight incline the tang of rust met his sensitive nostrils. A battered old sign passed to Dean's left. Although the paint was flaking away and the wood was soft with damp, he could still make out the words 'Singer Auto'. The familiar smell lent him speed as he walked towards the old house, mouth already watering with the prospect of breakfast.

Bobby was one of the few humans who had survived the Apocalypse. He had been a Hunter most of his life, yet even before the Apocalypse began he had no trouble sharing his property with 'monsters'. He was one of the few Hunters who had distinguished between evil and good in monsters. Just like people, he'd say, there are good and bad.

Pushing open the fly screen door, Dean headed into the kitchen, faded memories of the man who had lived here peeking into his ruminations. The Hunter had been gruff and had dispensed a tough love, but he had protected them before the Apocalypse from other Hunters and after the Apocalypse from the Angels.

Turning on the stove, Dean knelt to rummage around in a cupboard, searching for a skillet. With a small cry of triumph Dean managed to lift the skillet out of the cupboard, twirling it in his fingers as he put it onto the blue flames.

Grabbing a container off the kitchen table Dean smiled in satisfaction at the rare find he had managed to get the other day. Chicken eggs – fresh ones at that.

Cracking them onto the skillet the sounds of sizzling and bubbling soon filled the kitchen.

Taking out two plates Dean dished out the eggs, breathing in the egg scented steam that wafted from the meals.

Wandering out of the house with them in hand, Dean walked back down to the river where Sam was already drying himself off.

Seeing Dean with breakfast Sam planted his hands on his hips; both impressed and shocked to see his brother awake this early in the morning.

"Dude, the sun's barely been up for a few hours and you've already made us breakfast."

Glancing at the weak pastel sun struggling to rise above the horizon, Dean grimaced as he handed a plate over to Sam along with a tarnished silver fork.

"What can I say? I'm an awesome brother. But I also want you to go out and find us some fish for dinner tomorrow."

Grumbling Sam stabbed his egg yolk in good-humored annoyance. "I knew you wanted something."

Smirking, Dean sat down on the edge of the river with his brother, trying to forget about the prayer he had made earlier that morning.

His worst nightmare was finally going to arrive. An Angel. He had to make sure his brother was safe, deep in the water and out of the Angel's reach.

The sun was blazing overhead by the time Castiel arrived. Landing in a flurry of wing beats, dust and leaves scattered as his shoes touched the ground.

Tucking his hands into his trench coat pockets, Castiel walked around the scrap yard, the ends of his wings brushing against warped metal engine hoods and shards of glass.

Spotting a dirt path Castiel headed toward it, noticing the fresh footprints that had carved out the channel in the dirt. The gentle hush of waves against pebbles filled his ears as he made his way down to a lake.

A man was seated on the pebbles, two off-white plates at his side, both smeared with egg yolks.

Castiel's shined shoes crunched against the pebbles, making the man jump to his feet in alarm.

Bronzed skin shimmered under the sun, emerald eyes full of alarm and fear. The creature's muscular chest was bared against the sun, still wet with beads of clean river water and its legs were clad in torn and dirtied jeans. The creature stood its ground, but its chest heaved with steadying lungfuls of air.

Instinctively Castiel flared his black wings, feathers sliding against each other to create a subtle hissing sound.

Tipping his chin up the creature glared down at Castiel, fingers curling into tight fists at his side.

Castiel fought the violent impulses that stirred in his gut, hot and biting it filled his blood with heady adrenaline.

"Dean is it?"

Pink lips parted slightly as the creature debated what to say. Relaxing his hands the creature flexed its fingers as it hooked its thumbs into the pockets of its jeans.

"Yeah that's me chuckles."

Working the muscles in his face, Castiel tried to summon a gentile smile, the expression horrifyingly uncomfortable.

Dean's brows drew together in a grimace, "don't pull anything."

Wiping a hand over his face Castiel harrumphed as he let the 'smile' slide. "My name is Castiel, I've come in response to…"

Raising a hand to stop him, Dean took a step forward, bare feet sliding effortlessly over the unforgiving pebbles. "I know why you're here. Some bullshit about answering my prayer out of the goodness of your heart am I right?"

The mirror of the lake behind Dean shimmered under the afternoon sun, but was broken as a head emerged. Castiel stared at the creature, chocolate coloured eyes making contact over the still surface.

Sensing the Angel's distraction, Dean turned, "stay in the water Sammy."

Rolling azure eyes, Castiel tucked in his wings, "you and your brother have nothing to fear from me."

A bark of laughter burst from Dean, upper lip curling in disgust. "My brother may have faith in you bastards, but I know my dad told me not to trust you dicks for a reason."

Castiel's eyes glittered with anger, bubbling with heat.

Hesitating slightly Dean took a step back into the water, heel dipping into the wetness. Golden scales blossomed over the skin at the contact like firelight on newly polished gold.

Sensing his mistake Castiel ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation, "I'm sorry you don't trust my kind Dean, we only wish you the best." The Angel tried to put as much sincerity into the words as possible as he worried his lip with his teeth.

Snapping, Dean lunged towards the Angel, fist a blur as it connected with the angel's stubble covered chin.

Head jerking, Castiel stumbled backward, pain lancing from the point of impact. Stuffing down the need to retaliate Castiel narrowed his eyes as he straightened his tie.

"You spout all this shit about us not having a soul, but how can I believe that?"

Sam floated in the water, watching the exchange take place. The Angel was the personification of fear, huge black wings shimmering like spilt oil on a water's surface. Eyes the colour of electricity danced as they battled to release its fury.

Yet there was his brother, clocking this powerful and pissed-off creature on the chin.

"Dean!" Sam cried, tail treading the water in anxiety.

Both feet now immersed in the water, Dean undid the button and fly on his jeans. Throwing them to shore, he flung himself into the deep waters as quickly as he could manage.

Dean's heart raced with fear, making his hands tremble even as he knew he was now safe. The punch had been instinctive and despite Dean's great and undeniable fear of the creature it had happened before the more rational side of him could speak against it.

Castiel watched Dean in the water dispassionately, anger safely stashed away for the moment. The Angel berated himself for exposing his wrath, Dean's brother watched him warily now, where as before fascination had lingered in his gaze.

Dean's powerful tail took him to Sam's side. The rippling waters an impenetrable barrier between the pair of Fossegrim and the Angel.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Castiel stared at the both of them.

Dean smirked at the Angel, hand emerging from the water to give Castiel the one fingered salute.

Sam rolled his eyes but said nothing as he dived under the lake's surface, offering the Angel a brief glimpse of his tail; a bold copper colour, dotted by a smattering of crimson scales that looked like fresh blood under a harvest moon.

Dean lingered on the surface.

He had only seen one Angel before. It had been a man with tattered yellow wings. The feathers had been the colour of rotting flesh and the wingspan had shed a dark cold shadow over him.

That was the Angel, Azazel, who had taken his mother. Mary had been the very first creature to be taken to receive a soul at the Angel's home on Earth; Aureole - the only skyscraper left standing in New York City.

Dean's father John had very much doubted she had received a soul from the Angels and had harbored a deep hatred for them ever since. As such they never saw Mary again.

The wounds from losing his mother burst open when Dean watched Castiel; the Angel's presence ripped out the thick stitches in Dean's emotions, baring the red and puffy flesh to metaphorical salt.

With a final glare Dean dove under the surface, flicking water with his tail for good measure as he disappeared. The water didn't reach Castiel, only sputtered uselessly against the sun-baked pebbles in front of him.

Dean's tail, Castiel noticed was different. He had already seen some of the scales; the majority of his tail was warm brushed gold, it seemed to glow from an interior light source like a flame behind a paper screen. Intermittent scales of green broke the gold, jade that shone and glimmered as water sluiced off them.

Within the blink of an eye all traces of the brothers were gone. The lake was calm again and Castiel was left alone on the shore.

Rolling his shoulders Castiel remained where he was, eyes watchful for any breach in the lake's surface.

Staring at the still body of water evoked a shiver of trepidation from the Angel. The only safe place in the world from an Angel was in deep water.  
>All of them feared drowning; their wings became useless stones that dragged them down to silt lakebeds and sandy ocean floors when immersed in water.<p>

Castiel looked up into the sky, watching invisible hands in the wind sculpt the white clouds.

..0

On the opposite shore, in a disguised alcove protected by a line of rocks, the brother's resurfaced.

Blinking water out of his eyes Dean waited for Sam to say something. Sam sighed, eyes crinkling at the corners. "You and dad might've been right Dean."

Dragging himself up onto a warm rock Dean felt his fin split and bones shift to form two legs. Embarrassment over nudity in the presence of family was a human notion that Fossegrim hadn't quite adopted.

"You can't trust them Sam. You saw that Angel. It's exactly the same kind of monster that took mom from us. If you let it, it would take you too."

Glaring up at Dean from under his water logged fringe, Sam continued despite his own trepidations, "yeah, but Dean, why the hell would they be interested in taking us and other creatures? It just doesn't make sense."

Clutching his temple, Dean felt the beginnings of a headache hammer the inside of his skull. "I have no fucking idea Sam, but I bet you it isn't good."

Taking his hand away from his head, Dean jabbed a finger in Sam's direction to make his point. "But we're better off alive and soulless than dead, y'hear me?"

Shaking his head slightly, Sam turned his back on Dean. "I'm still not convinced."

Growling deep in his throat, Dean slid from the rock, plunging back into the murky waters. Grabbing Sam's shoulder, Dean turned him around to look him in the face. "Fine. I knew how stubborn you were, so I thought of a compromise."

Exhaling through his nostrils, a bitter smirk painted Sam's rouge lips. "Wow, rationality Dean, didn't think you were capable of it."

Nodding in acceptance of this well-established fact Dean continued on, "I'll spend a few days with Tweety bird back there to sort out whether we can trust him. But that's on the condition that you don't come out of the water. Got that?..Stay here, where you're safe."

"Dean…" Sam began jaw dropping in surprise, "but you're scared of them, I don't see why I can't…"

"Because," Dean said eyes hard and conveying no rebuke from Sam, "I won't let you. I'll do everything I can to stop you from going near that abomination. So it's this or nothing."

Sam was silent for a while, chin and lips dipping into the water as he weighed his options.

"Fine. Jerk."

Smiling Dean patted the top of Sam's head; earning a squawk of indignation from Sam, "bitch."


End file.
